


Cravings

by angstytimelord



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Someone Help Will Graham, Will is addicted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 08:37:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstytimelord/pseuds/angstytimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will can't control his craving for Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cravings

Will sighed as he closed the book he was pretending to read, wishing that he could throw it across the room, but knowing that such an action wouldn't stem the rising tide of discontent that was flowing through him. He didn't need to mistreat a book.

What he needed was to see Hannibal, but that wasn't going to happen. Not tonight. Hannibal was out at the opera, and wouldn't be home until later tonight.

And even then, he wouldn't go to Hannibal's home.

Not that he wasn't welcome, he told himself with another sigh. But he knew that it would be self-destructive to do so. He was good at doing things that were bad for him, but for once, he was going to try to control his desires, no matter how hard it might be.

Keeping that resolution was proving to be very hard indeed, given how he felt. 

He craved Hannibal. Craved him like a junkie craved their next fix, like a smoker craved the nicotine rush from that first deep drag on a freshly lit cigarette. He craved Hannibal's touch, Hannibal's kiss, the feeling of Hannibal thrusting into him.

He'd never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted Hannibal. It wasn't just desire -- it was a deep, unprecedented craving that he couldn't control. It was a craving that he didn't _want_ to control -- a deep-seated, ingrained _need_.

He didn't just _want_ Hannibal, he _needed_ the other man. It was a need born of desperation, a need that he couldn't define.

It was enough to know that his need existed, and to be able to keep it satiated.

So far, he had managed to do that. He'd been able to see Hannibal enough to keep his need placated, if not completely satisfied. But on nights like this, nights when he knew that he wouldn't be seeing Hannibal, he almost felt like climbing the walls.

Going into the city and waiting for Hannibal to get home wouldn't help. He knew that the other man would more than likely either bring friends home from the opera performance for a glass of wine and conversation, or he would be tired and want to go to bed immediately.

He didn't have the right to insinuate himself into Hannibal's life in that way, really. He couldn't crowd his lover, or push him. If he did, then Hannibal would back away.

He'd been warned of that from the beginning.

Will knew that it wasn't healthy for him to have such a need for Hannibal; even as that craving grew within him, he wished that it didn't exist, wished that he could successfully fight it off. But the more he tried to do so, the stronger that craving became.

He looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap. They were trembling; he was exactly like a junkie who was in desperate need of their next fix.

If he didn't do something to assuage this craving, he was going to start having withdrawals, he told himself wryly. This was crazy. He shouldn't be so .... well, _addicted_ to anyone. It wasn't like him. He'd never been like this about any other person.

But then, no other person he'd ever known was like Hannibal.

There had been an immediate attraction between them, one that neither of them could deny. It seemed inevitable that they had become lovers -- though Will wasn't so sure that he should call them by that name. They were less lovers than .... master and servant.

Hannibal took what he needed, and Will willingly gave it to him. There were no soft words of love; there wasn't even any real tenderness between them.

They took physical pleasure from each other, but he knew no more about who Hannibal was as a person than he had before they'd first slept together. Hannibal kept the core of himself carefully hidden, even when his body was completely bared.

Will wanted to rip away the veil that Hannibal kept over himself, wanted to strip away the layers that the other man encased himself in.

He wanted to be a part of Hannibal -- just as his lover was a part of him.

But he knew that wasn't likely to happen. Hannibal was too secretive, too protective of himself. Will had thought that he was the same way, but somehow, Hannibal had managed to coax out his deepest, darkest secrets. Hannibal could read him like a book.

Whose fault was that? he thought with a sigh. He had let Hannibal in, bared his heart and soul to the other man. He had offered no more than a token resistance.

He hadn't been able to resist Hannibal's blandishments. It was as if the other man held him under a spell; he was in thrall to Hannibal, and he knew it. He should be struggling against that; he should be fighting for the right to know more about his lover.

And if he _did_ ever learn more .... what then?

Would he still crave Hannibal with the same intensity that he did now? If he knew more about the man who he shared his body with, would he shrink away? Would he find that there were some things about Hannibal that he simply couldn't accept?

Will couldn't help feeling that Hannibal kept him at arm's length for his own protection; not because he didn't want to share himself, but because he didn't want to cause harm.

He didn't think that Hannibal would harm him physically, but there were warning sirens that went off in his mind at times when he looked into his lover's eyes. There were secrets hidden in those dark depths, secrets that he shouldn't be privy to.

Yet he craved those secrets, craved what they would reveal to him.

He wanted to know all there was to know about Hannibal Lecter, even if those secrets that the other man obviously held so close might be dangerous to their relationship. Will was certain that they could work through them, if only he knew what they were.

He didn't doubt that Hannibal held his secrets close. He himself had done the same, until Hannibal had unlocked those secrets and discovered them.

It had been impossible for him to fight, to keep those secrets to himself. Hannibal had pried them out as if they were his to discover; Will had been helpless to stop him, a slave to his desires, to the cravings that Hannibal engendered within him.

He wasn't ashamed of those cravings. He didn't need to be.

They were a part of him, a large part of what made him the person he was. To deny those cravings would be to deny himself -- and Hannibal had made him see that he shouldn't do that.

He wasn't perfect. He wasn't the kind of person that most others would want by their side. But he was what Hannibal wanted, at least for now -- and that was good enough for him. As long as Hannibal wanted him, then he was right where he belonged.

Hannibal craved him just as much as he craved Hannibal; Will was sure of that. His lover just didn't let his cravings show in the way that Will did.

He was good at holding his desires back -- at least in public.

When they were alone, it was different. There, Hannibal let himself go -- even if he didn't let Will share his secrets. He let his desires show just enough for Will to be secure in the knowledge that Hannibal wanted him, that he assuaged an insatiable inner craving.

His own cravings needed to be assuaged. _Now_. He couldn't sit here all night, wondering where his lover was and what he was doing. He'd go crazy if he tried.

He couldn't simply go upstairs and try to sleep; the insomnia that plagued him would find him there, and rake him with its talons. His craving would grow until he could no longer hold it back -- and then he would find himself doing something he shouldn't do.

He would end up going to Hannibal's house in the dead of night, begging for satiation.

That had to be avoided at all costs. Will clenched his hands in his lap, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know how to stop these cravings; they only grew stronger the more he thought about them. And the only way to feed them was to be with Hannibal.

He'd have to try to get through the night in any way he could, he thought, sighing in frustration. It was going to be a long, lonely night -- and by the time he saw Hannibal again, his cravings would be so powerful that he wondered if his lover would be able to satisfy them all.


End file.
